


Everything Looks Different At Night

by GrapefruitSpork



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, But maybe leading somewhere better, F/F, Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-08-02 00:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapefruitSpork/pseuds/GrapefruitSpork
Summary: On her way back to her dorm room, Max spots Victoria Chase entertaining a late night guest. Victoria catches Max spying, but it doesn't seem to make her angry. If anything, the awkward secret they share pulls the two of them together in unexpected and frightening ways.





	1. Chapter 1

Max Caulfield finishes cleaning her teeth in the shower room sink, her movements clumsy with fatigue. It's been a long day of classes at Blackwell, followed by homework, followed by a Skype call to her friends in Seattle. She had to cut the call short because she started yawning every few seconds. The worst thing is, it's only Wednesday. Max has been at Blackwell for almost two months and each week seems to get more and more exhausting. She has no idea how she's going to make it through the rest of the week, let alone the rest of the year.

She sighs, collects her things, and leaves the shower room. It's almost eleven, and most of the dorm is quiet. There are still lights burning in a few rooms, but the corridor is empty and dark. At least, it was when Max left her room. There's light spilling out of one door, now, casting a strange, writhing silhouette across Max's door. Which can only mean that it's something to do with Victoria Chase, Max's neighbour across the hall.

Max bites her lip and halts near the bulletin board, safely out of sight of anyone looking out of Victoria's room.

Victoria is someone Max was wary of at first sight. She's tall, beautiful, stylish, outspoken, intelligent, incisive, talented, and generally everything Max isn't. Max's high school survival strategy has been to avoid getting the attention of the popular crowd, and Victoria is about as popular as it gets. And, as Max discovered when it turned out that they shared photography class, Victoria maintains her place at the top of the social hierarchy by mercilessly cutting down anyone who challenges her.

Although Max isn't any kind of rival to Victoria, so she isn't sure why Victoria took an almost instant interest in her, or why Victoria dislikes Max so intensely. Max is keen to avoid trouble where she can, and she has tried to keep out of Victoria's way. The problem is that they share several classes, and it seems like wherever Max goes, Victoria is _there_ , stylish and beautiful and impossible to ignore. Even though Max knows that Victoria will give her shit for it if she catches her, Max finds it hard not to stare at Victoria. Mostly because Max has to wonder how someone so gorgeous, who has so many good things going for them, can turn out so mean. 

In public, Max can hope to avoid Victoria's mean jibes by hiding behind somebody, if nothing else. But here in the dorms, late at night? Max thinks any encounter between them could prove fatal. So she waits, clutching her door key and her toiletry caddy and chewing her lip as the seconds tick past and Victoria's door stays open. At first, Max can't make sense of the weird shadow she can see, but then she hears a whispered voice, and an answering moan, and suddenly she knows what she's seeing is the shadow of _two_ people. Two people making out.

Max's cheeks begin to burn.

She waits for another nervy infinity, until she hears a muttered "Fuck. Yeah...like that." It's a boy's voice, and it pushes Max into motion, because it seems that Victoria and her guest are distracted and Max really doesn't want to be a witness to anything more than she already has been. She scurries to her door, looking resolutely away from Victoria's room, and tries to quickly jam her key in her lock. Her heart's pounding and her hands are sweaty and shaking, so maybe that's why she drops first her key, then her caddy.

It doesn't make much of a noise when the caddy hits the carpet, just a soft thud. Max is almost sure Victoria and the boy are too busy to hear it. But when she stoops and begins to collect her things, Max is overwhelmed by an urge, an instinct that makes her look round.

Max sees the boy first. He's standing in the middle of Victoria's room, his back to Max. He's tall, broad, brown-haired, and has muscles that strain against his shirt. He's wrapped around Victoria, his face buried in her neck. Max can't see much of Victoria 's body, but she can see her face around his shoulder, her hand clinging to the back of the boy's head, fingers fisted in his hair. She looks drunk, and, for the first time in Max's experience, less than perfectly presented. Her lipstick is smeared around her mouth, her hair mussed up, her eyes...roll down and focus suddenly on Max. 

Victoria's eyes widen. Her breath hitches in a gasp. Max tenses uselessly, expecting Victoria to yell or warn the boy or do _something_. But all she does is lock eyes with Max, her mouth falling open wider, a loud groan falling out of her mouth. 

The boy lifts his head, chuckling. "Oh, you like that?" 

Victoria doesn't take her eyes off of Max. She tugs impatiently at the boy's hair, and he chuckles again and goes back to doing whatever he's doing to her neck. For a moment that stretches and stretches out impossibly, Max gapes at Victoria, not breaking eye contact, not moving at all, apart from her hand. Independent of her conscious control, Max's hand frantically searches the carpet for her key.

Victoria's eyes bore into Max's. Her lips part in something like a smile. Her breathing becomes ragged. She shudders and lets out another groan, louder than before. 

Max's hand touches her key and the moment snaps.

The feel of metal under her fingers breaks her paralysis. She scoops the key up, turns, and quickly unlocks her door. She doesn't even stand upright, just twists the handle, all but falls into her room, and almost slams her door behind her. She catches the edge of her door at the last second, fumbles her key out of her lock, and eases the door shut.

Before it closes all the way, Max hears Victoria laughing.

She crawls into bed without changing and puts a pillow over her head. After the longest minute of Max's life, she hears Victoria's door slam.

Max doesn't hear anything else that night, even though she stays awake for a long, long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little more.

Max is a mess the next day. She sleeps in, wakes up with grit in her eyes and the gears of her brain, and fumbles her way through her morning routine until she's awake enough to panic through the rest of it.

Max has always had problems maintaining her attention in class, but today she learns nothing. She's tired, and too much of her mind is busy worrying at whatever the fuck that was that happened last night. Max spends the morning trying not to think about it, but at lunchtime she zones out completely during Warren's excited nerding out over his love of some old sci-fi show called Farscape. Her mind returns again and again to Victoria's non-reaction to catching Max staring at her when she was...like that.

Except, was it a non-reaction, or did Victoria seem almost excited?

"Hey, Max! Are you listening?"

"Ah!" Max startles, knocking her bottle of water onto her lunch tray with a loud clatter. Max flushes. "Sorry Warren. I kinda slept badly. I'm not really awake."

She makes a clumsy grab for her water, but instead of righting it, she knocks it over again.

"Woah! Zombie-Max alert!" Warren grins at her and picks up her water, placing it beside her tray. "Don't worry, I'm always here to help out a damsel in distress. And if you really were a zombie, I'd even make sure no one shoots you in the brain."

Max rolls her eyes. The flicker of irritation she feels towards Warren is almost certainly undeserved, particularly since it helps clear her head. So Max tries to bury her annoyance and find a smile for him. "Wowser. That'd be really irresponsible, Warren. I wouldn't want to end up biting people!"

"I could gag you or something! It'd be totally safe!"

Max gets a vivid flash of Victoria's face, of the way her mouth fell open when she caught Max looking, of the _definite_ excitement in Victoria's eyes. 

"Gross," Max mutters weakly, her stomach twisting.

Warren blinks. He leans across the cafeteria table, risking his elbow on the perpetually sticky surface. "What do you mean? Are you okay?"

Max doesn't consider telling him, even for a second. She does consider that her only other friend in Blackwell is Kate Marsh, a sweet, quiet, Christian girl who Max doesn't think deserves to have to imagine Victoria Chase's night time activities. 

Not that Max has imagined them! 

But the weirdness of it all keeps tugging at Max's mind, and she's concerned about the direction in which her thoughts are being dragged.

She starts when Warren waves his hand in front of her face. "Hey! Cut it out."

Warren shakes his head. "You really zoned. What's going on, Max?"

"Nothing! It's...adjusting to the new school and classes is a lot."

It sounds lame, even to Max, even if it's _true_ , but Warren just nods. "Well, let me know if I can help at all." He reaches out, hesitates, then awkwardly pats her shoulder. "I'm here for you!"

"Thanks, Warren. Um, I think I'd better get to class. I'm not really here today."

And that much is true, because it feels like part of Max is still trapped in last night.

Warren jumps up. "Oh, cool. I'll walk you! You've got photography, right? I'm just across the hall."

In her mind, Max hears Victoria making sounds Max was never meant to hear.

"Right!" Max smiles weakly. "Uh, okay."

He walks her to her class, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he's entirely carrying the conversation. Max is too busy worrying about her last class of the day. Or rather, she's worried about who she shares it with: Victoria Chase.

* * *

In the end, it provides both anxiety and anti-climax. Victoria ignores Max for the entire class, not even deigning to look at her when she first comes into the room. Max shoots nervy glances Victoria's way throughout the class, and spends time that should be spent listening to her teacher thinking about the increasingly painful and humiliating ways that Victoria might avenge herself over Max's indiscretion.

But when the school day finally ends, Victoria leaves class with her friend, Taylor, and without a backward glance. Max trails her to the dormitories, not exactly meaning to, but too tired to think of an excuse not to go directly to her room.

Max drifts along in a haze, losing track of what's going on around her until she gets to the dorm. Someone holds the door for her, and she mumbles a distracted 'thank you,' but hesitates when the person steps into her path.

Max looks up into Victoria's dark green eyes. "Maxine! Oh, you look so _tired_ today! Was something keeping you up last night?"

"Uh..." Max's power of speech gives out after that single exhalation.

Victoria smirks, leaning in close. "Did you enjoy the show that much, perv? Couldn't stop thinking about Zach?"

"Wh-who? I don't-"

"So..." Victoria's tongue darts out, flickering across her lips. "You were thinking about me."

"What? I don't..." Max winces. "I d-didn't mean to...I'm sorry, I--"

"Is that your thing, Max?" Victoria cuts her off, a smirk twisting her lips. "Watching other people? Watching _me_?"

"I don't...what thing? I..." Max tries to find words somewhere in the buzzing static of her mind. Victoria studies her intently, her eyes dark, opaque to Max. Max's eyes widen when she finally works out what Victoria meant. She feels her face heating up. "Wait, _what_? You don't think I--"

"Oh, I _do_ think. You couldn't take your eyes off me!" Victoria leans away. She laughs at Max's dumbfounded expression. "Who knows, maybe you'll be lucky and I'll forget to close my door again one night. In the meantime, sweet dreams, Maxine. Au revoir!"

She turns on her heel and struts away down the corridor, hips swaying, leaving Max to dumbly trudge after her, lost in ever deeper confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

Late Friday night, Max has just drifted off to sleep when loud dance music starts playing from across the hall. She jolts upright at the first blast of sound and sits there for a few seconds gasping and getting her bearings. She's been at Blackwell for a few weeks, but she still feels disoriented in her dormroom sometimes. As her heart slows down she's able to wrestle aside the sense of dislocation that not being in her room in Seattle conjures. Max flops back on her bed, sighing.

The music doesn't stop. It doesn't get quieter.

Max groans. She doesn't think she'll be able to sleep through the noise. She lies there, hoping someone will do something about it. Maybe Brooke, who has the room next to Victoria's? Brooke isn't one of the popular people at Blackwell, but she's much tougher than Max. Surely she'll do something?

Max waits until it occurs to her that Victoria must have a reason for playing her music that loud at this time of night, and given what Max saw earlier this week, she has an idea of what sounds Victoria's trying to cover up. Max flushes, and covers her face with her hands. 

"Gross!" 

The idea that Victoria is less than twenty feet away, doing...things with some boy, is one that Max finds both unbearable and inescapable. The memory of Victoria's expression the other night, of the way she stared Max in the eye while she was being kissed, returns to Max suddenly and so vividly that she has to open her eyes again. She kicks her sheets away, feeling too warm to lie under them and too jittery to lie still.

Several minutes pass, each slower than the next, and the music doesn't stop, and neither do Max's thoughts. They churn around and around, becoming as tangled and sweaty as the sheets around her feet.

She kicks the sheets away entirely, off the end of her bed and onto the floor. She sits up, and throws her feet over the side of her bed, not quite reaching the floor with them. She pushes off the bed, stands up, and goes to her door. She hesitates, dreading what she might find on the other side of the hall, but finally she decides that the only hope of sleep tonight is to confront Victoria and to ask her to turn her music down.

"I really hope she isn't with some...one," Max mutters, her stomach tightening at the prospect. "Okay, just...quickly do it, Max. Knock on the door and ask her to turn it down. You can do this!"

She opens her door and looks out across the hall. Victoria's door is closed, she's mostly relieved to see. The part of her that isn't relieved she chooses not to examine. She pads across the hall, telling herself that being scared of Victoria is ridiculous. Victoria's being unreasonable. Surely she'll see that, and it won't be a big thing. 

Max stops at Victoria's door. It's slightly ajar, she notices, letting light caress the edges of door and frame. Max licks her lips. She listens for about twenty seconds, hoping that maybe Victoria will turn her music down of her own accord. But Victoria doesn't, and Max doesn't hear anything else going on, so she steels herself and knocks gently on the door. At her touch, the door opens wider, maybe half an inch or so. Max waits, but nothing else happens.

Max raises her hand to knock again, hesitates, then shoves the door open instead.

* * *

At first, Max thinks the room is empty. The only source of light currently on in the room is a halogen lamp on Victoria's desk on the far wall. The lamp is pointed more or less right at Max and the harsh light forces her to squint even from the other side of the room. Max looks around quickly. She doesn't see anyone, but what she can see is that Victoria's room is bigger than Max's and almost every individual item in it looks more expensive than everything Max owns combined.

There are some of Victoria's photographs on the walls, and Max is more than a little tempted to linger and examine them. But she came here to ask Victoria to turn her music down, not to snoop. Max feels a weird mixture of guilt and relief that there's no one here. It occurs to Max that she could turn Victoria's music down or off and go back to her bed, but without quite being able to work out why, she decides to wait outside, hoping that Victoria will come back soon, preferably without a boy.

Max is about to leave when she smells cigarette smoke.

Max takes an uncertain step into the room, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the glare of Victoria's lamp, and that's when she sees Victoria.

She's sitting beside her open window, perched on the ledge, a cigarette in one hand, an open bottle of Absolut Cherry vodka in the other. Her usual cashmere sweater has been discarded on the sofa. She's still wearing her blouse, but it's unbuttoned, affording Max just a glimpse of Victoria's stomach and her bra before Max resolutely raises her eyes to meet Victoria's.

Victoria watches Max, her expression almost blank. The music blares on, louder even than the clamour of thoughts in Max's head.

"Victoria?" Max asks, her voice so weak she can barely hear herself over the music. Max clears her throat and tries again. "Victoria! It's too loud! Can you turn it down?"

But Victoria's only response is to flick her dying cigarette out of the open window, and to take a pull on her bottle of vodka. It is, Max decides, half-empty. Max hopes Victoria hasn't drunk all of it tonight.

Max waits, feeling stupid, her fingers worrying at the hem of her sleep shirt, her mind worrying about Victoria's behaviour. Why isn't Victoria yelling at Max? Why hasn't she kicked Max out yet? Why is she just sitting there, staring at Max?

It gets to be too much, and Max abruptly turns and walks to Victoria's stereo which sits on a shelf above a craft table to Max's left. Max is conscious of Victoria watching her. Max's every step feels clumsy and strange. In spite of the cool night air blowing through the open window, Max can feel herself flushing and sweating. Max grabs the stereo's volume control and twists it around to zero. The silence that follows is relative given that there are two people in this room and a whole lot of others on this floor of the building, but it _feels_ absolute.

Until Max hears quiet, unsteady footsteps behind her. She turns, her heart hammering wildly, and finds Victoria in front of her, inside her space, too close. Max backs up a step, and the backs of her thighs hit the edge of Victoria's craft table.

Victoria advances on Max undaunted. She stops a couple of inches away, staring down at Max, a hint of curiosity in her dark green eyes. "What do you want, Max?"

Max swallows, leaning back as far as she can. "I...the music was too loud."

Victoria snorts. She raises her hand, and for a second, Max thinks that Victoria's is going to touch her. Max's knees start to shake, but Victoria reaches past her head and turns the volume back up, though nowhere near as loud as it was. Her eyes bore into Max's, intense rather than angry.

"Well?" Victoria lowers her hand but doesn't move away. She smirks and takes another swig of vodka. "Is that all? Or were you hoping to catch another show?"

Max flushes, but she can't help but notice that Victoria's makeup is mostly intact. Max would be willing to bet that Victoria hasn't kissed anything other than the rim of her vodka bottle. That thought is strangely reassuring to Max. She pushes it aside, takes a deep breath and says, "N-no, Victoria. I wasn't...your door was open the other night! I didn't mean to look!"

Victoria leans in close. "Liar," she whispers right into Max's ear, her breath hot on Max's skin. "I saw the way you looked at me. I see the way you _look_ at me, Max."

Max doesn't answer. She doesn't know how to respond, not when she's trying to replay every time she's ever looked at Victoria and _how_ she might have looked when she was looking. What did Max show in her face that she didn't see in herself? Max shudders. She grips the edge of the table with both hands, scared she might accidentally touch Victoria. In spite of the table digging into her thighs, Max tries to back away a little more.

Victoria abruptly steps back and turns away. Max gasps and droops into a sitting position on Victoria's table, her limbs becoming rubber. Her relief at having breathing room again lasts only as long as it takes for Victoria to close her bedroom door with a quiet but definite click. She pauses with her hand against the door, her back to Max, her head bowed. Then she raises her head and walks back to Max, a smirk on her lips and hunger in her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Double thanks for leaving kudos! Quadruple thanks for comments!

Victoria stops nearly a foot away. She raises the vodka she still clutches in her hand, offering it to Max.There are smears of lipstick on the mouth of the bottle. "Drink?"

At least, Max thinks it's a question, rather than a command. She shakes her head regardless. "N-no. Um, thanks."

Victoria snorts. She raises the bottle, hesitates, then lowers it, frowning. "I'm drunk."

Max nods, uncertain. She pushes herself upright, slow and wary. "Yeah? I, uh, should let you get to sleep, then?"

Again, Victoria snorts. "Don't be stupid. I'm _saying_ , I'm drunk enough to pity fuck you, Max."

Max freezes and Max _burns_. Her legs threaten to give out and she hasn't the mental capacity to call their bluff. Her heart is a stuttering mess, and her tongue feels swollen enough to fill her entire mouth. Indignation, anger, _terror_ ...Max experiences them all in the space of a second. 

But that's not all, and that's not the worst of it. The worst part is the _want_ that she feels, the surge of desire so fierce and undeniable that Max somehow stumbles half a step forward before shame scours her other feelings away.

Victoria is _drunk_ , and probably joking, and even if she wasn't, Max _couldn't_ , and how could any part of her be so twisted that she could _want_ something like _this_?

While Max hesitates, Victoria closes in again. Max flinches when Victoria reaches past her and puts her vodka on the table. She laughs at Max, her eyes glittering, and instead of moving away again, she leans in close and whispers, "Maybe I _like_ the way you look at me, Max. Maybe...oh! Maybe you'd prefer that? Hmm? Do you want to...watch me, Max? That could be...fun."

Victoria leans back. She slowly trails her fingers across the smooth, firm skin of her stomach, and Max watches, dazed, until she remembers that she shouldn't and she looks down at the floor instead.

She looks up quickly when Victoria threads her fingers through Max's hair and tugs, not quite hard enough to hurt but impossible to ignore. "Look at me."

Max does, her gaze skipping nervously across expanses of smooth, firm skin that have become as terrifying as they are alluring now that Max knows she might be allowed to touch them. Then Max meets Victoria's eyes, and it helps steady her a little, because Victoria is looking at Max with hunger, and nothing more. Max carefully clasps Victoria's wrist and gently pulls, trying to make Victoria release Max's hair. At the same time she tries to edge around Victoria, in the direction of the door. "Victoria-"

Before Max can finish asking Victoria to let her go, Victoria smirks and leans down and presses her lips against Max's. Max freezes again, but Victoria doesn't. She presses _herself_ against Max, pushing her back against the table. Max falls back and lands on her ass on the tabletop. The jolt breaks their lips apart, but Victoria still has a grip on Max's hair and somehow she has a hand on Max's hip, too.

Max is still holding Victoria's wrist and somehow she's gripping the hem of Victoria's blouse. Victoria lets out another laugh, really just a startled exhale, and whispers, "You okay?"

And Max really isn't, but the din of her blood roaring in her body makes it impossible to speak and a lifetime of self-effacement makes her nod, because when someone makes the effort to ask Max if she's okay, how is she supposed to say no?

"Good," Victoria whispers. She squeezes Max's hip, her fingers warm even through Max's shorts and underwear. She loosens her grip on Max's hair, runs her fingers through Max's short locks, and cups her hand around the back of Max's neck. Victoria shivers. "This'll be good."

Max can only stare at her. Max feels like she has a fever. She feels unequal to this moment, overwhelmed by the proximity of Victoria's warm, firm, _soft_ body, by the way her perfume fills Max's nose. Max runs her tongue over her dry lips, tasting Victoria's lipstick after even their first awkward kiss. Max knows how she got here physically, but how did she end up _here_ , like this, with Victoria Chase?

Victoria tugs at Max, and leans in again. Max makes the only response she's capable of: she moves her head to make it easier for Victoria to kiss her. Victoria tastes like cigarettes and flavoured vodka. Maybe there are traces of nicotine and alcohol in her mouth, because over the course of the next few minutes, Max becomes intoxicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I seriously will keep you waiting this time because the next bit is gonna be tough to write...


	5. Chapter 5

Somewhere in the course of the next few minutes, Max stops simply being kissed by Victoria and begins kissing back. Max is aware of Victoria's fingers working their way beneath her shorts and squeezing the flesh of her hip, not as a distinct sensation but as part of the whole experience. Max is so _warm_ , and she feels so _good_ , and her hand is touching the bare skin of Victoria's side, and that feels even better. 

Even as she begins to lose herself in the rhythm of lips, tongues, stolen breaths, and skin on skin on skin, Max knows she isn't--she _can't be_ \--as overwhelming for Victoria as Victoria is proving to be for Max. There's proof in the way that both of Victoria's hands are busy, tugging at Max's hips, and one of Victoria's legs has worked it's way between Max's, and Max breaks away from Victoria, gasping, when she's suddenly pressed against Victoria's thigh, and oh, _dog_ , Max has to stop this and she needs so much more.

Victoria lowers her head, but she doesn't kiss Max's lips again. Instead she pushes her face alongside Max's, blowing laughter in Max's ear. The feel of her skin, her hair, rubbing against Max's is strange and strangely wonderful, and Max needs to make this _stop_ , because this is insane, because her heart might burst, because she wants this too much for it to be good.

"Bed," Victoria whispers into Max's ear. "Right now."

Max feels herself being tugged and Victoria's thigh moves away, so she follows, stumbling onto her feet. She makes a strange, confused sound and Victoria laughs and pulls her in close, planting quick, sloppy kisses in the vicinity of Max's lips. Before Max can get caught up in the kissing, Victoria pulls away, laughing again. There's a confused moment when Victoria tugs and pulls and Max almost trips, and things get dark for a second, but then Victoria swings Max around and begins to walk toward her bed, herding Max in front of her.

It feels like Victoria's hands are everywhere, all over Max's skin, and Victoria's lips are everywhere, all over Max's face, and Max can barely hear her own ragged breathing over the roaring tide of her own blood. The back of Max's thighs abruptly meet the edge of Victoria's bed and Max falls onto her back, out of Victoria's grip, but not out of her grasp. Max lies on Victoria's bed, dazed but desperate for more.

Victoria tugs off her blouse and tosses it aside. She quickly unzips her skirt and lets it drop to the floor. She stares down at Max, her eyes almost black and almost entirely hungry. There's something else, though, something like wonder in her expression. "Stay there, Max. Stay right there..."

Max stays, because as much as she wants to go to Victoria, be close to Victoria, become lost in Victoria, she isn't sure she knows how to stand up at the moment. So Max breathes and watches as Victoria turns to her desk--at which point Max discovers that Victoria is wearing a black thong under her tights, one that matches the black satin of her bra--and takes something from it. She turns back, and Max is so caught up in taking in the sight of her--her long, toned legs, the curve of her hips, the smooth contours of her stomach, the swell of her breasts--that it takes her a second to realise that Victoria is holding a camera.

The shutter clicks again and again as Victoria takes a series of shots.

There's something steadying for Max, in cameras, even when they're pointed at her. The fever abates for the first time since that second kiss and Max becomes aware of the fact that she's no longer wearing her T-shirt. She becomes aware of the fact that she's touching herself, through her shorts, and she's so _wet_. She becomes aware of the fact that her eyes must be reflections of Victoria's, pupils blown, glazed with lust and awe. She becomes aware of the fact that she is about to lose her virginity to Victoria Chase, during what Victoria termed a _pity fuck_.

Max should be embarrassed, ashamed, in need of an escape route. She becomes aware of the fact that she is none of those things. Max has never sensed an ounce of pity in Victoria Chase before, and in this moment? There's no pity in Victoria, but there is desire, there is want. And Max becomes aware of the fact that she wants to be wanted. She likes the way that Victoria is looking at her, even through the lense of a camera.

"Victoria," Max gasps through air that seems to simmer after it's passed through her lungs. She fumbles her way out of her shorts while Victoria watches, lowering her camera, her face stricken with need. "Bed. Right now."

Victoria laughs, but it sounds shaky now. She swallows, almost tosses the camera aside like she did her blouse but remembers at the last moment what she's holding and instead places it back on her desk with the exaggerated care and inevitable clumsiness of the drunk. Victoria swallows again, staring at Max, drinking in Max's body like Max just devoured Victoria's. And while Max doesn't understand how anyone could look at her as if she were anything other than vanishingly plain and painfully skinny, Victoria looks at her like she's discovered precious treasure.

Or maybe like she's been starving, and just found a good meal, because Victoria all but falls on Max, her lips greedily latching onto Max's. Her body presses down on Max, and Max gasps at the sensation of so much warm, soft flesh melting into hers. Their legs become tangled, though Max's part without any conscious thought, allowing Victoria to press forward, press against the burning core of Max.

Victoria pulls her head back and hisses, "Squeeze."

Max is confused, until she realises that she's gripping Victoria Chase's ass with both hands. She squeezes, and Victoria shudders, her mouth falling open in a grin. Max almost wants to ask if she did it right, but she doesn't want to hear her own voice right now, shy and uncertain, because everything about this moment should be certain, _is_ certain.

Max is burning up, and Victoria's body on hers feels heavy, but then Victoria _presses_ with her thigh, and Max is certain that she wants this, that she's never wanted anything more than this. 

"Good." Victoria laughs, and lowers herself onto Max. She fists her hand in Max's hair, tugging Max's head to the side, and she presses a kiss against the hinge of Max 's jaw. "Keep doing what I say, and this'll be so _good_ , Max."

Victoria pauses, her breath hot on Max's ear. One of Max's hands is still on Victoria's ass, but the other is slowly exploring the unblemished expanse of Victoria's back. One of Max's legs is between Victoria's, and Max has raised her knee, and every time she squeezes Victoria's ass, Victoria's hips roll down against Max's thigh. Max can't hear her own breathing, only Victoria's, but if they're similar, if they're feeling the same things, then Max's breathing is ragged and thick and reluctant on the exhale and oh so eager for the inhale, to breathe in every element of the other girl's scent. 

Past the barrier of Victoria's jasmine and vanilla perfume is the scent of her skin, and it's so much sweeter than any perfume.

Victoria whispers, "Just...just remember..." Her teeth sink into Max's earlobe, and Max gasps in shock, in pain, in longing. Victoria releases her, then sucks Max's wounded flesh into her mouth, her tongue quick to ease the pain and turn it into something that makes Max groan and press her body up against Victoria's.

With a gasping laugh, Victoria releases Max ear. Her head moves lower, her breath tickling the skin of Max's neck, and Max turns her head, exposing her throat. Victoria's lips find a place on her neck, a sensitive spot, and behind the gentle pressure of Victoria's kiss is the warning of her teeth.

"Please," Max whines, hating her voice, uncertain of what she's asking for, but eager for more, for everything. Max's hand bumps against the fabric of Victoria's bra and begins to hunt for the fastener.

"Max, listen to me..."

But Max can only listen to the breath on her neck and the want in her body. "Victoria...please..."

At the sound of her name, Victoria's lips part and her teeth bite into Max's throat. It hurts, but it's a good hurt, wrapped in warm breath and hot desire, and it's followed by Victoria's mouth, her tongue, and Max cries out, louder than the music that's still playing in the background, and she doesn't hate the sound of her voice.

Victoria pulls herself away from Max again, and Max groans. Victoria laughs. She pushes herself upright, reaches behind her body and unfastens her bra long before Max's fingers could have hoped to. She discards her bra as carelessly as she did her other clothes and Max wants to cry, because Victoria is too beautiful.

"Max..." Victoria catches Max's hand and guides it to one of her breasts. "Max, listen."

Max stares up at her, wishing she had a camera, wishing she could live in this moment forever.

"Max..." Max squeezes, and a shudder ripples through Victoria's frame. She closes her eyes, arches her back, and pushes one hand through her hair, spoiling it, making it _perfect_. Victoria gasps, "Max, just...no one can know. This is...this is one night. One night of...of fun. I'm not _gay_ , Max, not like you. Okay? This is our secret. This has to be our secret."

Max freezes. Max is no longer burning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for checking this fic out and for all the awesome comments! :)

A moment ago, Max had no time for questions. Now her mind is full of them, so many that one leaks out of her mouth before she can even begin to get a handle on the situation.

"What?" Max croaks, her body tensing. "What do you mean?"

Victoria shakes her head, and begins to lower herself onto Max again. "Just...shhh."

Max snatches her hands away from Victoria's body, even though it hurts to let go, even now. Victoria's skin is so soft, so warm; touching her is so addictive that part of Max's mind protests that she should keep going, see this experience through, but the larger part of her has no idea what _this_ is anymore. Victoria's weight on Max's becomes unsettling, and panic swells like a flood tide inside her, washing away everything good.

Victoria's teeth are at Max's throat again, and all Max can feel is the pain and the threat.

She reaches up desperately and seizes Victoria's hair, tugging sharply.

Victoria pulls her head away with a little gasp. She laughs, eyes focusing on Max's. "Mmm. I was wondering where your hands went. You can tug harder than that, if you want. I don't mind a little pain."

Max shakes her head frantically. "Stop."

"What?" The laughter fades from Victoria's voice. " _What?_ "

"Please. Stop. I can't...we can't do this!"

For a splinter of a second, Victoria looks shocked. Then her mouth twists, she blinks rapidly, and she pulls herself off of Max completely, retreating to the foot of her bed where she sits, staring at the floor. "You... _you_ are turning _me_ down?"

Even through her own panic, even through the cold that makes Max shiver when the warmth of Victoria's body leaves her, even through the hard _anger_ in Victoria's voice, Max can hear the hurt, too.

Max quickly sits up, tries to reach for her. "N-no, I...don't mean...Victoria, I just...I don't understand! Can we--"

Victoria flinches away from Max's fingers. She covers her breasts with one arm, raises her head and glares at Max, her eyes glittering in the edge of the harsh light of her desk lamp. "Get the fuck out of my room."

Her voice is ice, but there are cracks in it, and if the ice breaks, Max thinks they both might fall through into crushing depths, and drown, blind, cold, unable to utter another audible word. So it's easy to obey Victoria's command, to obey the panic and the guilt dinning louder and louder in Max's mind. It's easy to go, to run, from Victoria's bed to Max's own. They're less than thirty feet apart, separated by two flimsy doors.

It's easy to break down when Max is back in her own bed, shivering under her comforter, overwhelmed by all the sensations of the last twenty minutes of her life. It's easy to give way to the ever worried, ever anxious part of her brain that turns and turns in incomplete circles, trying to find a way to rewrite the disaster, to find the point where Max could have done something different, where she could have not fucked everything up.

It's easy to imagine that she won't sleep tonight, might not ever sleep again.

But in the border between night and morning, when sleep finally comes for her, Max already knows what the hard part is going to be: facing the world again after tonight.

And most of all, facing Victoria.

* * *

There's a kind of clarity that exists in the shadow of exhaustion.

Max wakes up with no more tears to give, tired in her body, too tired in her mind for anxiety to twist her thoughts in endless, lacerating diversions.

Max likes girls. She likes girls like she likes boys.

It's not a shock. It's not a revelation. It feels more like a fact that she didn't know that she knew. It feels like being reminded of a memory from her childhood, and suddenly what had been obscured by time is _there_ again, sure and certain and fitting comfortably in her brain. Maybe it's a gift of sleep deprivation, but Max feels calm, certain, almost relieved at having a long held suspicion confirmed.

The next thought is more difficult, because the next thought is about Victoria. What happened last night...what _almost_ happened...Max has no idea how to process it. Her body, does though, a pulse of warmth spreading through Max in time with tangled memories of Victoria's legs, her lips, the silken fire of her skin...

Max winces and shoves her thoughts away from the memories she's too keen to replay.

"Okay, so...I almost had sex with Victoria Chase last night." Max hesitates, licking her dry lips. "And, wowser, I wish it hadn't been almost," she whispers.

The worst thing about that statement is how honest it is. There's an ache, a need, in Max's body, mere embers of the fire that blazed so briefly last night, but no less undeniable for that.

Max groans, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with both hands and doing her best to ignore the urges of her body that don't relate to showering and getting breakfast.

She pushes herself upright, yawning, and throws aside her comforter. She blinks and flushes scarlet when she realises that she's only wearing her underwear. In her haste to flee Victoria's room, she left the rest of her clothes behind.

"Oh, dog..." Max groans. "That just makes everything more awkward."

Max bites her lip, remembering the longing in Victoria's voice, the excitement in her eyes, in her _body_ , excitement that _Max_ put there! She remembers the hurt, too, though. And Victoria's insistence on secrecy, her insistence that she isn't...well.

"How am I going to talk to her? Can I just...should I approach her? She's going to be hungover, and...shit. She'll be mad. How do I...?"

As more memories return, as she returns graceless and reluctant to wakefulness, it begins to dawn on Max how _fucked up_ this situation is. Max's hands make fists in her sheets. Her anxious brain stirs, telling her she should have tried to talk things out last night, explain that she wasn't rejecting Victoria, but that she was just so confused, and uncomfortable with how things had developed, and...she should have just let Victoria fuck her. Things would have been fine if only Max had done what Victoria wanted, what they had _both_ wanted.

"Liar," Max tells her brain. "I don't think things would have been okay." Max frowns, thinking about how drunk Victoria was. "I don't think Victoria's okay."

It's enough to send another wave of guilt crashing against the eroding cliffs of Max's sense of self-worth. How could she get...turned on by what happened last night, when _clearly_ Victoria wasn't okay? Even if she had been before Max got there, she couldn't have been after Max left.

Max grits her teeth and tries to push the guilt aside. "I'll shower. And then..." She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. "I'll knock on her door. I...we can figure this out."

She gets up and starts putting together everything she needs for her shower. She pulls an old t-shirt on and a pair of running shorts. She's mentally debating whether to take a trip off school grounds to bring coffee and croissants as a peace offering to Victoria when she leaves her room, but that thought, and every other, leaves her mind when she steps into the corridor.

Each of the rooms in Blackwell Academy's dorms has a whiteboard on the wall beside the door. Last night, Max's was still blank. Today, the word 'SLUT' has been written in large, messy letters on the board.

Pinned beneath that word are Max's sleep shorts, the ones she left on Victoria's floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. I'm not sure what I think, so tell me what you think?


	7. Chapter 7

Max acts instinctively, snatching her shorts from the board, dislodging a thumb tacks which spins away to land on the worn carpet. She quickly tosses the shorts into her room, then scrubs the heel of her hand across the whiteboard until 'SLUT' is no longer a public declaration, just a stain on her hand.

It's only then that Max allows herself to understand what her senses have already registered: the corridor isn't empty. There are a couple of girls hanging out at the far end of the hall, but that's not much comfort, because one of those girls is Brooke Scott and the other is Juliet Watson.

Max doesn't know either of them well, but she knows enough about them for fear to wash her fatigue and anger side. Juliet represents the entire staff of Blackwell Academy's student paper. While Max believes that Juliet possesses at least a degree of journalistic integrity, Max also _knows_ that Juliet is one of the biggest gossips on campus. She's part of the Vortex Club, too, Blackwell's social elite. If Juliet has seen what was on Max's whiteboard, then pretty soon _everyone_ will know.

And Brooke...Brooke has the room next to Victoria's. To get to the other end of the hall, she'd have passed Max's room. Brooke _must_ have seen what was there. And while Brooke doesn't seem to care much for gossip or Blackwell's social hierarchy, she does seem to care a lot about Warren Graham. Brooke was reserved, but nice enough when Max first met her. Since Max and Warren became friends, Brooke has been outright cold towards Max.

Max hesitates, but ultimately decided that hiding in her room isn't going to help her. She walks toward the showers, which means also walking toward Juliet and Brooke. Before Max can turn the corner and find sanctuary in hot water behind a mildewed plastic curtain, Juliet looks up from her phone at Max. Her eyes widen, the muscles of her mouth strain not to form a grin, and she quickly nudges Brooke who looks up, frowns at Max, then snorts, looking away.

Abandoning any notion of saying hello, Max hurries into the shower room. Before the door closes behind her, she hears a giggling Juliet say, "Oh, god! Did you _see_ \--"

Max misses the rest, to her relief. She wastes no time getting into the shower. The ink on her hand sluices off her skin easily enough, but the memories of Victoria, and the consequences of last night and this morning stick to her no matter how hard she scrubs.

* * *

It becomes obvious what Juliet was giggling about when Max gets out of the shower and catches her reflection in the mirrors over the sinks on the far wall. Two dark bruises on the pale column of Max's throat, two hickeys left by Victoria Chase.

How long Max stands staring at the marks on her skin, clutching a sink for support with white knuckled hands, she doesn't know. Max only comes back to an awareness of herself, and of the passage of time, when someone lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Max?"

A girl's voice, of course, and cadenced to reassure a wounded animal. Max looks up and realises when she sees her face in the mirror that she's crying.

"Hey, Max. Come on. Come with me, okay?"

Max blinks and works her hands loose from the sink. She quickly cuffs at her eyes and turns to find that it's a fully dressed Dana Ward who is standing over her, looking at her with eyes full of sympathy, full of empathy. "Oh. Hey, Dana."

Dana smiles, if the wary twist of her lips can be called a smile. "Let's go."

Max follows Dana meekly out of the shower room, wiping at her eyes. By the time it occurs to her that they're going the wrong way, Max is in Dana's room and Dana has closed the door and leaned her back against it.

It stirs memories of last night, but only faintly. Max doesn't feel trapped, not with or by Dana. Dana isn't exactly a close friend, but she's a sweet person, she's always been nice to Max, and the way she's looking at Max now is neither judgemental nor pitying.

"People here can be real assholes," Dana says softly, but with feeling.

Max rubs her face wearily. "Yeah? Oh. I guess. Yeah."

Dana pushes away from the door. "Okay. So...we should get out of here for a while. But first, can I...?"

She approaches Max slowly, hands and eyebrows raised. Max swallows and lifts her chin, turning her head aside when Dana's fingertips graze the skin of her jaw, prompting. The contact is fleeting, and Max thinks she's grateful for that.

"Okay," Dana says firmly. "I can cover those up for you, if you want?"

Max swallows, digging her fingernails into her palms to fend off a fresh wave of tears. She nods once, not trusting herself to speak, not speaking at all until Dana is done with makeup and helping Max into a slightly too large Bigfoot's hoodie and guiding her to the parking lot and into Dana's hybrid and they're off Blackwell's grounds, at which point Max says, "Thanks, Dana..."

She cries again, after that, her face turned to the window, Arcadia Bay an indistinct smear before her, Dana warm and quiet behind her. She places a hand on Max's back when they hit a stop light. When she takes her hand away, the warmth lingers, and Max's tears come to a halt.

She faces the window for the rest of the drive, and waits for the world to come back into focus.

* * *

Dana takes Max to a coffee shop on the outskirts of Arcadia Bay. Max sits on an old faux leather armchair at a low table in one corner, and Dana puts her bag on the chair opposite her, then goes to the counter to order. Max is left to wonder if her life will ever feel as worn and comfortable as the seat beneath her, or if it will always be awkward, ill-fitting, and merely become increasingly scratched and scuffed.

When Dana comes back, she starts telling Max a story about her last cheer practice, and how they almost set fire to Blackwell's gym. She breaks off when their coffees arrive, and Max knows that she'll never hear the end of he story. It was just to fill time until this moment.

Dana waits until Max has taken a gulp of coffee, then she leans forward, pitches her voice low, and asks, "Max...did you use protection?"

It's so unexpected, Max almost laughs. "Wh-what?"

"Max, I..." Dana looks down at the table, then back up. She brushes a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear and squares her shoulders. "I'm not judging. But it's important, so please, just--"

"I didn't use...I was with a girl!"

Max freezes, realising much too late that of all the ways she could have answered Dana's question, she picked the possibly the worst one. Max breaks eye contact and grabs her cup of coffee. 

Before she can raise it, though, Dana's hands loosely clasp hers. Max looks up to find Dana smiling at her. 

"Hey. I shouldn't have assumed, but come on! It's 2013. You're going to have work harder than that to shock me."

Max sighs, but she manages a smile for Dana. "I'll put more effort in next time?"

Dana chuckles. She withdraws her hands, claims her own coffee cup, and sits back. "Look, Max, sorry if I was being pushy. It's just...I wanted to make sure you were, you know. Safe."

Max nods quickly. 

"I'm not here to grill you, though, okay? I'm here _for_ you. We can talk about whatever. Or not talk. It's up to you."

Up until now, Max has gently resisted Dana's attempts to befriend Max. Implicit in the offers of friendship have been parties, makeovers, setting Max up on dates. Max has clung stubbornly to the idea that Dana just doesn't _get it_. Max isn't like Dana. Dana's gorgeous: bright-eyed, always cheerful, all generous curves to Max's acute angles. Dana is _popular_ , while Max has never been much good at making friends.

But they're anonymous in a café, their words inaudible to the other customers over the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar on a stereo, and Max didn't know how badly she needed exactly this calm moment with a friendly person...no, with a friend. Dana's earned that title, even if Max isn't sure that she's done enough to earn Dana's friendship.

Max sighs and offers Dana the best smile she can manage. "Thank you. For real, Dana. And, uh, yeah. I think I do need to talk about it...I just don't know where to start."

Dana nods. "Take your time. Start wherever you need to."

Max sucks in a breath and holds it while she thinks. Then she sighs it out, squeezes the hot mug of coffee between her hands, and starts talking.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the delay! I did not mean to leave you in suspense so long. I'll be aiming to get the next bit out a good bit quicker, and put more (some) Victoria in it.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I appreciate them all!

Max finds herself hesitating at a few points in her story, always choosing to hide details rather than reveal them. Max keeps back Victoria's name and identity. She doesn't tell Dana that she saw Victoria kissing a boy, either, choosing to leave that still confusing encounter out of her retelling altogether.

But Max does tell Dana that she had sensed a tension between herself and the other girl ever since her arrival at Blackwell, a friction that made Max think the other girl hated her but which has taken on new significance since last night. And Max tells Dana about going to Victoria's room, though she leaves out the part about Victoria's music being too loud. That sort of detail would make it too easy for Dana to guess who Max was talking about.

Talking more and more slowly, with an ever more pronounced blush on her cheeks, Max tells Dana about finding Victoria drunk and half-naked, and about everything that followed, up to and including Victoria kicking Max out at the disastrous end of their...whatever it was that they had.

Dana listens, asking the occasional question when Max fumbles her words or lapses into silence. But even when it's obvious that Max is keeping things back, and even though it looks like she kind of wants to, Dana doesn't press Max for more details.

Not until the end at least, when Max is gulping down her now cold coffee, not quite looking Dana in the eye and trying to work out if she feels better or worse for talking.

After what feels like a long time, Dana clears her throat. “Hey, Max?”

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t your fault. Okay?”

Max looks down into the depths of her cup. At the bottom is a thin layer of cold foam. She tilts her cup, maybe hoping to find something meaningful hidden beneath the remnants of her latte. “Yeah, no...I-I get that.”

“Wanting to have sex doesn't make you a bad person, Max.” Dana sighs. In a soft voice she adds, “Deciding that you _don't_ want to go through with it is your right. And actually putting a stop to it, because you know it’s going wrong...well, that takes courage. More than...uh, more than most people have.”

Max studies her, realising for the first time that Dana looks...sad. It occurs to Max only now that Dana might have reasons beyond kindness for looking out for Max like this. 

“Dana...are you--”

“Ah, yeah.” Dana sits up straight and smiles. “Don't worry, Max. You can come to me any time. And I know Kate'll be there for you. You're not alone in this.”

“Oh, dog!” Max grabs a fistful of her hair and tugs at it. “How am I going to explain any of this to Kate? How am I going to explain this to...to everyone?"

The prospect of trying to explain this further to _anyone_ is exhausting. But while Kate is one of the nicest people Max has ever met, she's also an advocate for abstinence, and a devout Christian, and the prospect of watching Kate swallow her disappointment in Max seems unbearable.

“Hey, come on!” Before Max has even realised how panicked the thought has made her, and how lost she’s become in her panic, Dana's hand is on her wrist and she’s gently encouraging Max to let go of her hair. “It's going to be okay, Max. Kate's basically a saint already, and she’s your friend. She isn't going to judge you. It’s...it might get rough for a while, but people will move on. You just have to hang in there, okay?”

Max closes her eyes and breathes. She does her best to push away the thoughts of what the next few weeks--the next few _months_ \--of her time at Blackwell are going to be like. But they press so closely on her that it feels more like Max is pushing her way _through_ them, trying to find some point of light to escape to.

Absurdly, she thinks about Victoria. She wonders what Victoria is feeling right now. Guilty? Angry? Upset? Yesterday, Max might have believed that Victoria was indifferent to her, that she enjoyed tormenting Max in the same way that a cat enjoys toying with its prey: quick to forget it once the fun is over.

After last night, Max knows that Victoria isn’t as uncaring as she presents herself. Whatever Victoria is feeling today, whether it’s vindictive or remorseful, she’ll be having to work out how to live with it, just like Max.

It doesn’t make Max feel good, but it helps her to slip through the press of her own fears to a calmer mental space, and that means that she’s feeling better. Max opens her eyes, sighs, and smiles for Dana. “Okay. This is going to suck, but I can’t even imagine how much worse I’d be if you hadn’t rescued me today. Thanks, Dana. I seriously owe you.”

“Oh!” Dana smiles, bright and wide, but she turns away slightly and fiddles with her hair. “Uh, no, it’s nothing! I mean, you’re welcome, Max. Any time.”

“You might regret that offer,” Max says, chuckling.

“Not a chance! Besides...I’m planning a Halloween bash, and now you pretty much _have_ to attend. In costume.”

Max shakes her head, biting her lip. “Well, uh...I’ll try?”

“That’s good enough for me,” Dana says, facing Max again. Her smile dims and she lets out a little huff of air before quickly saying, “So...what are you going to do, Max?”

Max frowns at her. “I don't...what do you mean?”

“You're...I mean, you're going to see her again. Around the school, right? What are you going to do about...her?”

It feels like Max's lungs are being compressed. “I...don't...what can I do?”

“Well…you could try to...make her back off. I don’t know if she’d necessarily go after you again, but...” Dana clears her throat and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why do you think she...did that to your whiteboard, Max?”

Max blinks, then shakes her head. “I guess she was mad?”

Dana bobs her head, but it's clear she isn't agreeing. “Or scared, maybe?”

“Oh. I...guess.” 

That gives Max pause, because when she was thinking about Victoria’s emotional state, she didn’t consider that she’d be afraid. She’s so...talented, and smart, and popular, and _beautiful_. What could Victoria Chase be afraid of?

Max thinks about how Victoria was behaving last night. She thinks about how much Victoria has been drinking. “I think she was upset even before we...ah, before I saw her. So, I guess she could have been scared. Though I’m pretty sure she was mad, too. And...hurt.”

Dana nods. “Yeah. I think all of those are probably right. You said she didn't want anyone to know about the two of you, right? And now the rumour mill's started, not many people are going to care about what actually happened. Everyone’s going to be looking at you, and, uh, anyway! She may have wanted it that way?”

“Oh, dog. Yeah, that…” Max chews her lip. “I wouldn't have told anyone, though! I was going to talk to her, I swear! I wanted to try to work things out, but…”

“You could still try, I guess…” Dana says doubtfully. She shakes her head. “But I don’t know how well that’d go. You could try to convince her to leave you alone, or you’ll tell people what really happened. If she’s as worried about her reputation as I, uh, you think she is--”

“I couldn’t do that,” Max says, even the prospect of making a threat like that making her need to wipe her palms on her jeans. “That’d be...no, I couldn’t do that.”

“Then you might be best staying away from, uh, the other girl. I think she'll only hurt you again if you go near her. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t deserve to have to put up with her bullshit.”

“I get it,” Max assures Dana, even though she doesn’t think that’s all true. Max hurt Victoria last night. She didn’t mean to, but she did. And while _no one_ deserves the shit Victoria pulled on Max, Max hates the thought of trying to hide from the girl who lives across the hall from her for the rest of the year. “I’ll...be careful.”

Which isn’t a promise to stay away, but Dana seems to accept it as one, because she nods and gives Max another smile. “So...another coffee?”

“I...think I’m calm enough now. And I don’t want to take up your whole morning, you must have other things to do. So I guess we should head back?”

Dana hesitates. “We don't have to, if you're not ready.”

“I don't think I ever will be,” Max mutters, remembering Juliet’s laughter in the dorms. “So I may as well get it over with, right?”

“Right,” Dana says, putting on a cheerleader smile, one she's probably practised in the mirror. “We’ll go back, heads held high. And you can focus on getting on with your day.”

Max knows it isn’t going to be that easy, but she appreciates Dana’s attempt to lend Max some of her confidence.

* * *

When they get back to Blackwell, Dana has to go to the gym for a rehearsal, so they part, with a hug, in that parking lot. Max decides to put her earphones in and listen to music on her walk back to the dorms.

At least it means she doesn’t hear it, when she passes a group of students she barely knows and they laugh at her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December got busy. Happy New Year and welcome back!

In the weeks that follow, Max learns what the difference between a stud and a slut is. A stud is a boy who is presumed to have had sex. A slut is a girl who is presumed to have had sex. Max thinks that she hears only a handful of the rumours that begin to circulate about her, but even those few speak of sexual acts as improbable as they are prolific.

Prior to the rumours, Max had been a shy girl who kept her head down. She was largely ignored by other students, and if there wasn't exactly comfort in that, there was security. Max could tell herself that she had time to figure out how to have a social life, and the only real pressure grinding her down about how slow she was to engage with others was Max's own constant sense of inadequacy. 

Now...now there is no avoiding the scrutiny she's subjected to from the moment she leaves her room to the moment at the end of the day when she returns, her head down, her heart somewhere near her ankles. Where boys used to look at her, their gazes linger obviously now. Max has caught some of the looks on the faces of boys who used to ignore her, who she had mostly hoped would ignore her for the rest of the year. But she knows better than to hope for that now.

Now she finds notes in her locker, and after making the mistake of reading one, she stuffs the others into her bag so that she can rip them to shreds and dispose of them later. Whispers chase her through the halls, and muffled laughter, too. Where once Max could tell herself that it was paranoia to think that everyone was watching her, and judging her, now it's a fact. Max feels transparent, stripped bare by the scrutiny of the other students, and yet it becomes clear to her that there are only a few people at Blackwell who really know anything about her, and who _want_ to know who she really is.

There's Kate, of course. Max spends the rest of that first weekend laying low, dreading everything, but dreading facing Kate most of all. But when classes end on that first Monday, Kate invites Max for tea in her room. And when they get to Kate's room, and the door closes behind them, Kate simply pulls Max into a hug and says, "We don't have to talk about it. But you can tell me anything, Max. And you can come to me anytime you need someone to listen, or just a cup of tea. Or if you want to hold a bunny! Okay?"

It makes Max feel grateful, but it also makes her feel profoundly guilty for believing that Kate would judge her in the first place. She takes refuge with Kate as often as she dares, which is less than Kate would tolerate and less than Max would like, but far more often than Max feels comfortable with.

Warren is another story, one that might be described as a cautionary tale. Warren finds Max hiding in the library the Sunday after her night with Victoria. He takes a seat beside Max, waking her out of a daydream with a touch to her shoulder. He waits, perched on the edge of his seat, hands gripping the straps of his bag, while Max takes out her earphones and tries to smile some kind of greeting at him.

He licks his lips, hesitates, then blurts, "I just...I know the rumours aren't true. I know you weren't...I mean, that you aren't...you obviously didn't do any of those things!"

Max's stomach seems to drop away, leaving only a roiling pit in her core. "I...right. Those...things."

Warren nods eagerly. "Yeah! I knew you weren't like that! I knew it couldn't be true!"

Max nods wearily. She doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't want the thread of anger his words are weaving into her exhaustion and nausea to become a part of her being. "Right. Thanks. I...should get back to--"

"I bet they weren't even your, uh...panties. How could they be? And it's not like you'd do...that stuff. Not with someone like Logan! So, uh, yeah. Do you want to maybe--"

"They were shorts. Not panties." Max isn't sure why she says it, but her anger isn't a thread, it's a scarf now. It warms her neck and face. "But they were my shorts."

Warren stares at her. His eyes flick down, taking in her flushed neck. The marks Victoria's teeth left have faded, but maybe some pale shadow shows against the angry red of the rest of her skin. Warren swallows. He meets her eyes again. "Somebody stole them?"

"No, Warren. Nobody stole them."

He squeezes the straps of his bag. "I...don't get it. You're not saying you...not with _Logan_?"

"Warren!" Max turns away. She closes her laptop and stuffs it into her bag, followed by all the books she was too dazed and distracted to learn anything from, unless by osmosis. "I didn't do anything with Logan. But would it matter if I did?"

"...no." It takes him just a few heartbeats too long. Max doesn't look at him, but she can _feel_ him frowning at her. "I...no. Of course not! I mean, you wouldn't with him! I know that! And if you, I mean, it's not like it'd change..." He bites his lip, then briefly puts his hand on Max's shoulder. "Max. No matter what, I'm still your friend!"

Max is much too tired to ask him what 'still' means in this context. Or rather, what it is in the rumours and the possible truth behind them that Warren views as a potential breach in their friendship. There are things in that imagined breach that Max doesn't want to look at too closely, because she would like to think she can still be friends with Warren. But Max knows that in this moment, Warren has changed Max's idea of what their friendship was and what it might be.

He gets up when she does, but Max quickly shakes her head. "I'll see you later, Warren."

"I'll walk you! I already got the book I needed, so--"

"Warren!" Max winces and softens her tone. "I...need some time. To clear my head. Please." Max folds as much of her anger as she can under her tongue. "Sorry."

His eyes become large and liquid. "Oh. Right. See you at lunch? Tomorrow?"

Max can still feel the pit in her stomach, but she manages a smile anyway. "I, uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I'll try..."

"Okay. See you around, I guess," he mutters, not quite managing to hide a pout.

Max is grateful that she's in a library, because that means she can't scream. When she gets outside, there are people on the school grounds so she still can't. But at least the urge is less pressing by that point.

It isn't until that first Monday that Max so much as glimpses Victoria again. It happens at lunchtime, by which time Max has had a whole morning of being the centre of Blackwell's surreptitious attention. Max is busy assuring herself that it can't get worse than this, that it _won't_ get worse than this, when Logan Robertson ambushes her at her locker.

"Hey, Maxine!" Logan leers down at her. He has to be almost a foot taller than her. He wears a Letterman jacket like it's a badge of authority and his football prowess secures him all the popularity that his personality can't. "Been a while, girl. We should change that."

He grins at her, putting one heavy paw on Max's upper arm and turning her to face him.

Max freezes up, confused and distressed that she's ended up on Logan's radar. "Uh, I...no, I...thanks, but--"

"Come on, don't be like that. We could hang out at the next Vortex Club party. I'll hook you up with that VIP access. And then maybe we could--"

Dana appears at Max's side and shoves Logan in the chest. It barely moves him, but he's quick to let go of Max and back up a pace. "Whoah! Hey, what are you--"

"Leave Max alone, Logan," Dana says quietly, but with an intensity Max didn't know Dana was capable of. "Walk away. Right now."

Max shrinks into her hoodie, pathetic and pathetically grateful for Dana's intervention.

Logan stares at Dana, hesitates, then shrugs and turns away. But then his friend and teammate Zach Riggins appears, exerting enough gravity with his presence to make the loose group of students who had been watching Max turn into a crowd of onlookers. Zach slaps Logan's back, grinning round at everybody before he zeroes in on Max. "Come on, everyone knows by now that Max is a party animal. Logan just wants to give her a chance to cut loose! Shit, he might not be able to keep up with her, if what I've heard is true!"

Logan laughs, but he sounds nervous and the laughter dies when he catches Dana's expression. Dana turns her glare on Zach, who just looks amused, before she lays a hand on the small of Max's back. "Come on, Max. Close your locker and let's go."

While Max fumbles her things into her locker and closes it, trying to ignore everyone staring and whispering, Zach tries to engage Dana. "Hey, come on! Max seems like she's real Vortex Club material! Are you trying to keep her out, Dana? Are you jealous? Is that it?"

Max slams her locker shut. She keeps her head down and, aware of and so very grateful for Dana's hand on her back, Max tries to flee. But Logan and Zach are in front of her, and there are enough other kids around them, laughing and jeering at Max, to make a quick exit impossible. Zach steps into Max's path. He raises his voice, talking over Max's head to Dana.

"Well, hey, if you don't like the idea that Logan's into her, don't worry! From what I've heard, it won't be long before Max moves onto the next--"

"Oh, bullshit." Everybody stops talking and turns to face the speaker. Max raises her head and finds Victoria walking through the gap that opens in the crowd just for her. She stalks towards them, her eyes locked on Max. There is no shadow of what passed between them on her face. Never has Victoria's beauty seemed more cruel to Max. Victoria stops just before Dana can get in her way. She looks around, making eye contact with everyone in the corridor. "Max is obviously still a fucking virgin. The rumours are bullshit."

Max stares at her. Victoria's gaze lingers on Dana's hand, where it still presses against Max's back. She flicks her eyes up, meeting Max's. Max thinks she sees Victoria's eyes grow darker.

Zach chuckles. "I don't know...I mean, someone nailed her panties to her door!"

Victoria doesn't take her eyes off of Max. She shrugs one shoulder. "That just means that Maxine here got some new underwear from someone. She probably needs it, poor thing."

It makes people laugh, and that should make Max angry or afraid or _something_. Something other than relieved, but relief is what she feels. Slowly she says, "You're probably right Victoria. About...about most of what happened the other night." Max swallows. "Not all of it, though."

Victoria stares at her unblinking.

Dana leans in and whispers, "How can you be such a bitch, Victoria? Just let us go."

Victoria glances at Dana. She makes a show of yawning. "Yes, run along! You're boring me now." She steps back, opening a path for them to escape. To Logan she says, "Please tell me you weren't serious about bringing _her_ to a party? Parties are supposed to be fun."

Whatever answer he gives is lost to the growing buzz of talk as the crowd breaks up and Dana guides her away from it all. When they get out onto the grounds, Max turns and impulsively hugs Dana. "Thanks for saving me again."

Dana gives her a gentle squeeze. "I tried, anyway."

Max backs out of her embrace and...stops. It occurs to her that it's lunchtime and that she doesn't know where to go or what to do. She's thinking about skipping food and retreating to her room when Dana says, "Hey. Let me buy you lunch?"

"No, no! I couldn't...you've done so much for me, I--"

Dana smirks. "Good point! I think that means you owe me lunch! Time to pay up, Max."

And that makes Max laugh. Between lunch with Dana and Juliet and tea that afternoon with Kate, Max thinks that things won't be so bad after all.

Especially when she thinks that there might be a chance that Victoria doesn't hate her.

Max ends Monday feeling optimistic that things are going to blow over, maybe before the week is out. In the weeks that follow, Max finds out how wrong she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the things happening soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably no be updating a lot, but I will update when I can.


End file.
